


Scared, Potter?

by Saraste



Series: Season of Kink 2018 Bingo Card [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Consensual Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Edging, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Season of Kink 2018, Smut, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 09:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16134770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraste/pseuds/Saraste
Summary: It should be crazy, how an exchange from their childhood can before something neither of them could ever had dared hope, yet it isn't.





	Scared, Potter?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my[Season of Kink Bingo Card.](https://saraste.dreamwidth.org/440378.html) Prompt for this was "dirty talk."
> 
> This was the one, out of the five I managed to write before the end of September, that made me goo "But I don't _know_ how to even write dirty talk!" And then this fic went and proved me wrong. Sorta maybe got out of hand.
> 
> Beta and moral support by katajainen. Thanks a bunch, sweets!

‘Scared, Potter?’ Draco asks, his voice husky and low, hand steady on Harry's shoulder as he smoulders at him, the way he always starts these things when he's in a fit of pique.

Harry's answer is preordained, there is no other way he can answer and no other way he ever will. ‘You wish.’ Such are the words of Harry's surrender, those reminders of a time when they thought themselves as being each other's enemies even when neither fully understood the real meaning of an enemy, that solid knowledge had only come later and had been enough to unite them against a foe.

Here, in their bedroom, the words are flirtation, a reaffirmation of what they are to one another in the present, what they need from one another, childish posturing made sexy, their own private joke.

Draco takes the reply as invitation, as he well should, drawing Harry closer to kiss him better, hungrier, losing himself in the act and his desire.

‘Like it when you kiss me like that…’ Harry confesses breathily when Draco prods him towards their bed and both their lips are kiss-swollen and Harry’s hair a bigger mess than ever.

Draco is breathless as well and he has that lovely flush all over his cheekbones, down his neck and all over his chest, scars standing out now as pale lines amidst the red hue where Harry hurt him because he was scared and it turned to hate. Harry lays a hand there, finger tracing lines he knows by heart. They have forgiven past deeds, are not the boys they once were. They can be scared, still, but not of each other. The past is where it ought to remain, in the past, and the present and future are theirs now.

‘Like what?’ Draco doesn’t miss a beat and his hand joins Harry’s over his chest, not to pull it away, but to hold it in place.

‘Like you want to eat me.’

‘Who says I don’t?’ Draco smirks, predatory.

Harry draws in a deep breath. ‘Go right ahead.’

This is Draco’s night to do as he wishes, to decide how things will go, as agreed by their earlier exchange. There are words for Harry to put a stop to things, if he so chooses, but he rarely does, as Draco hardly ever crosses his limits and only then by accident. And Harry never crosses Draco’s.

Draco pushes Harry down into the bed, settling over him, sitting over his lap, pinning his arms down. ‘Now, where should I start?’ he asks, letting his eyes roam all over Harry's still dressed body, which is pliant and supine under him.

Draco’s intensity excites Harry, as does his body, chest exposed through his open shirt, one single strategic button closed, with nothing else on him. The expensive fabric bunches at the hem, covering his crotch from Harry’s view, but the tenting of the fabric is unmistakable. It's stark white against the paleness of Draco’s skin and he seems to glow, his grown-long hair almost iridescent in the soft candlelight lighting the room from nigh decadent sconces affixed on the walls.

Harry shifts on the plush pillows strewn artlessly across their bed. ‘Anywhere you want…’

A grin is his reply and Draco leans down to claim his lips, stroking Harry’s hair as he takes his time.

‘You can touch,’ Draco allows because Harry keeps his hands to himself, kissing him again, moving his hips against Harry's when he feels his hands on his hair, his shoulders, his back.

Draco peels Harry out of his clothes, murmuring everything he is going to do to him in vivid detail to the point where he has Harry squirming under him, begging.

Draco opens Harry's belt, licking his lips. ‘I'm going to taste you and indulge myself,’ he holds a finger on the head of Harry's cock and it twitches, ‘and you’ll stay hard for me as I ride you until I'm done. Agreed?’

‘Agreed… but I…’

The finger traces a ring around the root of Harry's cock as Draco smirks knowingly. ‘Need help?’

‘Yes.’ It’s not an admission of weakness, but confirmation that they are on the same page, that Harry can admit to being so hot and bothered by Draco that he knows he can’t give him what he wants. ’Please.’

Draco murmurs a spell, winding his finger around Harry's cock and a ring forms around the base, ensuring that Harry will stay hard for as long as Draco wants. ‘Good?’

‘Good.’

Harry swears when Draco takes him deep into his mouth, looking up at Harry as he does, as he bobs his head up and down, cheeks hollow while Harry gives into his words, trusting his pleasure into Draco’s hands.

*

Draco tastes him until he, not Harry, is satisfied with the end result, which, in this case, is to have Harry writhing on the bed, gasping an escalating choice obscenities and begging.

‘That’s so good, I’ve always said you had a mouth on you…’ Harry says as Draco licks up his shaft and takes the whole head in his mouth, sucking at it.

Harry whimpers as those pretty lips come off with a lewd pop and a smear of precome trails from Harry’s cock to Draco’s mouth, his flushed lips shining with saliva. ‘I thought it was you, always ready with a snarky reply…’

‘No…  ah… was you, I never could get my eyes off your mouth, I ---’

Draco holds the hips down with brute force, taking Harry’s cock deep into his throat, leaning over him with hands on Harry’s hips, giving Harry an eyeful, had he been aware enough to appreciate.

‘Fucking fuck you I can’t I… those lips I…’

Said lips move away and a tongue darts out to lick at the slit, tasting away the bead of pre-come lingering there. Harry whimpers. Draco draws away, pops open his one strategically closed button and palms his own neglected erection, sitting on his heels on the bed. ‘My lips, what, tell me.’

It’s not a request. Because this is Draco’s night.

Harry pants, arm thrown over his eyes and his hips twitch. His cock is already an angry red, stiff and erect. Draco wants to touch it but won’t because he wants to take his time and pushing Harry to the edge and easing him back is part of it. Because Draco wants Harry to come so hard, when he finally does, that he can’t even think but drowns in the climax and loses himself, and then Draco will put him back together again, the better for it.

‘Draco, please…’

There’s an edge now. ‘ _Tell me_.’

Harry visibly wills himself to settle, lifts his arm and looks at Draco and Draco shivers down his spine, the look in Harry’s eyes is desperation, lust and adoration all rolled into one. ‘I kept looking at them all the time, didn’t know why at first, not really, you _know_ how I was treated in that house, I didn’t know I could…’ Harry swallows and Draco knows and he aches for the Harry of the past, the boy who was different, who didn’t look like those bastard muggles who should have loved him, at least his aunt, but instead pressed him to servitude, like he was less. Harry swallows and says: ‘I didn’t know I could like a boy, didn’t know what it meant that I stared at your lips and always wanted to kiss them, they were so pretty and you ---’

Draco doesn’t let him finish, can’t, simply can’t, but rushes up to kiss Harry, winding his arms around his shoulders, kissing him until he’s lightheaded with it and still wanting more.

Harry’s hands are on Draco’s hips, steadying him as Draco withdraws. ‘That was,’ Draco says, ‘that was something.’

There’s a nod.

Draco wriggles a little, Harry’s stiff cock fitting snug against his bare ass, nestling between his cheeks, but Draco doesn’t want it in, not yet, because he’s not quite _done_. Harry’s all too coherent for Draco to be done with him. He brings one hand up to Harry’s face to cup his cheek, bringing the thumb to his mouth, and Harry takes it in, sucks at it like he’s sucking cock, Draco’s cock, all the while looking straight at Draco.

And he sits still, doesn’t wriggle or twitch, and that without being told. He’s so good.

‘Now,’ Draco asks, ‘would you like me to put this in you while I suck you off? How _much_ can you take?’

Harry whimpers but doesn’t answer.

Draco looks at him. ‘Scared?’ he asks, again, because he _needs to_ , now, after what Harry has said, what memories it dredged up. He might not be in the right frame of mind to be overwhelmed, to be lost and found and puzzled back together and it’s Draco’s job to make sure it doesn’t happen. Because he’s asking, not just taking for his selfish pleasure, making this act of profound trust a perversion. There are no clear indicators of flagging desire to clue Draco more clearly in, because while Draco’s magic won’t let Harry come, it won’t let him go soft with lack of lust, either. He needs words.

‘You wish,’ Harry’s eyes are clear as he looks at Draco.

Clear as he seems, it’s time for minimalism, of distilling down. ‘Fingers?’ Draco asks.

‘I need…’ Harry swallows and his faltering shows clearly.

Draco’s hand moves to his shoulder. ‘What do you need?’

Harry has bowed his head, hidden his beautiful green eyes behind his long fringe, the eyes which are so fitting in his dark-skinned face, but made his aunt shun him because he was too different, and her husband really was just a bigoted bastard. He looks up now and those green eyes are bright, too bright and Draco’s heart skips a beat and “Azkaban” is on his lips when Harry says ‘I need to be in you, I need to know this is… that we’re right, that it’s okay, that it’s normal to love you like I do and show it. Please?’

The past and all its baggage weighs heavily on Draco and he draws in a deep breath. ‘Whatever you need.’ He cups Harry’s face in his hands and looks him straight in the eye and shuffles their ritual. ‘ _You wish.’_

Harry’s eyes go wide. ‘No,’ he says, instantly, ‘I didn’t ask, I didn’t say it first, you can’t just…’

‘Harry, please. You need it.’

Harry shivers, his hands are slipping under Draco’s shirt, up his back. He shakes his head. ‘Yeah, I do, don’t I?’

Draco sits still in his lap, fully aware it won’t be quite like what Harry needs, but there’s no use crying over already done preparation, and his body is ready and won’t be needlessly hurt even if Harry were to fuck him right now, plunge in to the hilt and fuck him to the mattress. ‘Yes, you do. Do you want the ring, still?’

‘No,’ there’s no hesitation. ‘I need it... I need it, but not like that. But I want you to ride me.’

The magic snaps away at Harry’s “no” without Draco’s conscious thought, magic ahead of his thoughts. Harry shivers and takes a deep breath. Draco can feel he’s still hard. He’s glad because he doesn’t know what he would have done otherwise.

‘You always like that.’

Harry’s hands slip lower, kneading at the supple flesh of Draco’s ass. ‘I _always_ like to watch you, you know that, you look gorgeous when you throw your head back and just go for it.’

‘Hmmm...’

Harry’s fingers find the hard edge of the plug.  He stills. And the look he gives Draco is not innocent at all, indicative of hard and fast, rather than the gentle and reaffirming they’ve been going for since the switch in roles. ‘You got ready for me.’

Draco can’t help being smug. ‘That I did, you can slip right in.’ He leans closer, mouth at Harry’s ear, ‘I’ll ride you hard and fast, the way you like.’

Harry fingers the skin of Draco’s hole, stretched around the tapered end, ‘I’d like that.’

The caress sends a flash of pleasure up Draco’s spine and he squirms, making Harry gasp. ‘Would you like me to tell how I got ready for you in the shower, how I put my fingers in me and stretched myself nice and loose until I slipped that in, so I could take you in when I was ready, knowing you’d let me, knowing you love it?’

Harry pants. ‘You talk and squirm like that I’m gonna need that ring back.’ His fingers make indentations into the pale skin of Draco’s ass right next to where he’s pink and stretched and ready, a plug up his ass to keep him open. ‘Or else I won’t be able to fuck you like you deserve.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Still your night,’ Harry looks at him square in the eye, ‘and I need it. They _didn’t_ break me.’ He kisses Draco until he swoons. ‘Make me forget anything but you around my cock, squeezing me just right, making it feel like I can’t take it until…’

Draco shifts. ‘Until you come in me and fill me so full…’

‘And I take your cock,’ Harry pushes so it’s pressed between them, his forehead to Draco’s, both breathing ragged ‘and I jack you off until you scream my name.’

It’s Draco, who feels like he needs a cock-ring now. But he can’t come yet, because Harry wants it later, after. It might be Draco’s night still but it doesn’t mean it’s not Harry’s too, not ever. ‘Yeah, wait…’ He scoots away a bit so Harry’s cock springs up to join his, making Harry groan. It’s an angry red and so hard it must hurt. Draco fits his long fingers around them both and his magic pulses, ensuring both will last.

‘Oh fuck, that’s hot,’ Harry groans. He pulls Draco close and kisses him, Draco goes willing, winding his hands all over him, the shirt slips from his shoulders, bunches at his elbows and Draco is hot and bothered with the tableau they undoubtedly make, wishing he could see.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Harry pants, holding Draco tight to him, their breaths mingling, both panting, flushed and ready to go.

Draco shifts up to line himself. ‘Slick yourself up, let me see you,’ he ask-orders, biting his lip at the look on Harry’s face as he does.

He holds himself up, bracing his hands on Harry’s shoulders, poised for the plunge.

‘Fuck, Draco, fuck, come on, come _on…’_ Harry urges, desperate, but letting Draco pace his own penetration, as he should, because it’ll be Draco fucking Harry, not the other way around.

Draco pants. ‘Yeeah, yeah, just a…’ He draws in a deep breath and pushes, feels the plug start to slide out, slick and easy. He closes his eyes, knowing Harry will like it, lets himself savour the momentary sensation of _emptiness_ , feeling his gaping hole fluttering, wanting and needing something to fill it again. Knowing Harry will.

‘Fuck, that’s hot… come on...’

He doesn’t throw himself down but goes slow, lets Harry slide into him nice and slick, filling his emptiness. ‘You’re perfect, always fill me up so good, I love it. No-one ever gets to fill me up like this, take me like you do, fuck me until I scream, groan your name like I’m lost and all I know is you.’

Harry bottoms out, Draco nestled in his lap, snug around him. They take a moment, breathing and shivering, could come right then and there, for the simple feeling of rightness alone.

‘Draco…’

‘Harry…’

And Draco rides, flexing his thighs, holding onto Harry’s shoulder as he does. Harry’s words are gone, he pants and gasps and can only recite the prayer of Draco’s name and the litany of ‘fuck, oh fuck!’ He mirror’s Draco’s thrusts, follows his rhythm and it’s perfect.

Draco’s stretched perfect for him, takes him into the tightness of his body over and over again, thrusting deep and hard, body on the brink but unable to go over. Harry watches him with a glazed-over intensity, panting with rasping breaths. ‘You’re so good for me,’ Draco tells him, throwing his head back, long hair spilling over his back, ‘fit me just… ah fuck… just right… fucking perfect! Love it!’ He feels like he could go on forever in the moment, on that razor’s edge of overwhelm and climax, being one with Harry.

Finally, Harry asks for it, for the end, even when it hasn’t been that long at all. ‘I need… fuck Draco… can’t… need… please…’

Draco’s magic snaps and he bears down in Harry’s lap, let’s Harry fuck up into him, rides his movements, Harry’s head buried against his chest as he comes and comes and comes trembling. ‘Draco… fuuuuuuck….’

His hand seeks out Draco’s and jacks him off and Draco comes, head thrown back and screaming Harry’s name as magic snaps and he orgasms, body tightening around Harry’s spent cock, come shooting between them.

Draco shivers, overwhelmed and done in by the sight of Harry fucked out. He’s safe in Harry’s lap, filled with all of him, come and cock, both spattered with his own. He wants to stay there forever.

Harry hold Draco close. ‘That was…’

‘Just what you wanted?’

‘Yeah. Fuck you’re hot.’ Harry’s buried his face against the scars of Draco’s chest, hands wrapped around him and he presses kisses there a part of Draco still think he doesn’t deserve because they’re apology and Harry has nothing to apologize for.

They’re both quiet for a moment before Harry asks, his voice low and hoarse, one of his hands has slipped down to finger Draco’s stretched rim. ‘Can I plug it in you?’

‘Fuck, yes, _please_.’

The night is still young, after all.

  



End file.
